I didn’t know how I’d go on.
In the short time we’d been together, he’d woven himself into my life, into my heart. He’d made me realize that when it came to certain aspects of my life, I was still a dreamer. Last night, I’d dreamt about him and me. And we’d been happy. So happy. I’d dreamt about us making dinner in a normal kitchen, in a normal house, and we’d been leading a normal life. He’d come up behind me and kissed my neck, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me close, as if he never wanted to let me go. Despite the fact that I knew it was a dream and it would never be anything more, I couldn’t shake the feeling that . . .
We could have been happy. In a different life, we really could have been.
He gripped my pants and yanked them down to my ankles, his hand immediately dipping between my legs to cup me. The second he closed his fingers over me, I moaned. The things he did to me . . . they were crazy. And addicting. And oh so dangerous.
Just like him.
He let go of me and undid his trousers, letting his pants hit the floor, too. Breaking the kiss off, he dropped to his knees in front of me. Gripping my hips, he stared at me. He’d never looked more vulnerable than he did now, kneeling at my feet. “I’m sorry I yelled, sweetheart. I’m sorry I got you in this mess, too.”
I’d never get sick of the way he said sweetheart. He could tell me the world was ending, but as long as he added on that sweetheart, his voice jagged on that second syllable, I wouldn’t even care. And that was the God’s honest truth, right there. “I know. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” He pulled my panties down. “But I know how to make it better.”
He closed his mouth on me, not wasting a second before blowing my mind. He cupped my butt from behind with his big hands, holding me where he wanted me. I collapsed against the wall and let out a long, strangled moan, burying my hands in his thick hair. Lifting my leg, I rested it over his shoulder and rolled my hips in a figure-eight pattern, needing him to send me to heaven for a few minutes. Needing him to make me forget everything that had happened, and everything that would still happen.
I needed to forget it all, just for a second.
He scraped his teeth against my already sensitive clit, his tongue rolling around me in wide, sweeping circles. My breathing came faster, and I fisted my hands in his hair, pushing him even closer to me. It still wasn’t close enough, and it never would be. “Lucas, oh my God.”
He deepened his strokes, thrusting a finger inside me at the same time. Stars burst in front of me, and I came explosively against his mouth. Growling, he spun me so my ass was in the air and gripped my hips from behind me. After a few moments, he pressed his erection against me, right where his lips had been earlier, and I came again, even harder than before. Grunting, he gripped my hair and pulled my head back tenderly.
His mouth pressed to my ear, and he nibbled on it. “I love fucking you with my mouth, darlin’. Love the way you taste when you come, and those breathy little cries you make. I love—” He cut off, his grip tightening in my hair. “I could live the rest of my life with my head between those creamy thighs of yours and die a happy man, but right now? I need to fuck you.”
I nodded. “Yes. God yes.”
He plunged inside of me with one long, hard hit. My nails scraped over the countertop, searching for purchase, but I came up empty. He gripped my hips and moved inside of me, each stroke harder than the last. I arched my back and pushed against him, straining to get even closer to him.
“Heidi.” His hips moved faster, and he moaned. “You’re gonna kill me.”
I cried out, the pressure building inside me until it boiled over. And the second it did, he was there with me, his body tensing as he came, too. Breathing heavily, he collapsed against me, but he didn’t crush me between him and the counter. “Lucas . . .”
“I know.” He kissed the top of my head. “Believe me. I know.”
We stayed like that for a short time, him holding me close, till he swept me up without a word and carried me into the bedroom. His pants were stuck on one ankle, so it was almost comical. Almost. Instead, it felt bittersweet. Gently, he laid me on the left side of the bed and pulled the covers over me.
Yanking his shirt over his head, he threw it on the floor. He stood there, gloriously naked, and I couldn’t stop staring at him. I would never get sick of looking at him. Admiring those tattoos, and muscles, and—
Oh my God, were those freckles on his shoulder?
“What?” He glanced down at his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“Are those”—I got up on my knees and crawled over to him. He watched me, his chest rising and falling as I got closer—“freckles?”
He covered his shoulder immediately, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Yeah. Why?”